


Guiding Like A Lighthouse (To A Place Where You'll Be Safe)

by MisterTiberius



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Familiars, Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Blood and Injury, Daryl Dixon Needs a Hug, Divorced Lori Grimes/Rick Grimes, Good Sibling Merle Dixon, Injured Rick, Lori Grimes Bashing, M/M, Merle Dixon Being Merle Dixon, Merle Dixon Lives, Multi, Nice Merle Dixon, No Carl, No Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Rick, Protective Daryl Dixon, Protective Merle Dixon, Protectiveness, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:55:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23153617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisterTiberius/pseuds/MisterTiberius
Summary: Rick's family has always been ridiculed for having weak and useless Familiars, so Rick's put off the Summoning for as long as he possibly could. But in order to join the police force like he wants, his Familiar needs to be a Class Nine or lower.He definitely wasn't anticipating TWO Familiars to heed his call.Not to mention that BOTH are categorized as Class One.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Merle Dixon/Rick Grimes
Comments: 31
Kudos: 115





	1. Chapter 1

Rick finished up the Summoning Circle with one last stroke of the brush, smearing his own blood into a completed circle. The star on the inside was carefully measured and painted, along with the numerous ancient symbols that the translations for had long since been forgotten in the mind of man. 

He straightened out of his crouch, knees popping from squatting for so long. He shifted back a step to survey his handiwork with a critical eye. All appeared to be in order, black candles properly positioned at each point of the star.

"Okay, you can do this." Rick mumbled, hands holding a minute tremble as he cleaned up the basement, stalling. There was a table set up behind him, a decently sized circular one that he'd gotten at a good price. He'd bought it with the Summoning in mind, the hand-crafted wood was a rich brown that he'd scrubbed clean and polished himself. The table was filled with various offerings; he didn't know what his Familiar would like, so he'd looked up the most common offerings and had stuck with those seeing as they were always a safe bet.

He moved back until there was at least four feet between him and the Summoning Circle, as advised by the book he'd bought a few days prior to this. He'd have a little over two weeks to get comfortable with his Familiar before the Initiation for the Police Force started. He had to bring his Familiar in to be registered and tested to see what level they were so he'd know whether or not to bother with initiation. Rick sucked in a shaky breath and shoved those thoughts aside, he'd burn that bridge when he came to it.

"I, Rick Grimes, call to the other side in search of a warrior." Warmth bled into his bare feet, surging up his calves and thighs to flood his chest. Every beat of his heart seemed to pump the heat through his limbs, bathing him in a comfort and security that he hadn't experienced since the last time his mother squeezed him into the tight circle of her arms. 

Encouraged that everything was going smoothly, he continued. "I ask for a sword and shield, I ask for a protector and weapon. Grant me a spirit that reflects my passions, my resolve. Let my words bind, tethering their very essence to my cause. Hear my call, and let it be answered."

The still-wet blood that coated the stone floor bubbled and hissed, evaporating into thick clouds of red smoke. Rick squinted, trying to see through the rapidly growing plume of crimson fog. He could _just_ make out a dark shape in the general direction of where he thought the Summoning Circle to be, anticipation coiling in his fluttering stomach. The red smoke began to dissipate before it reached where Rick stood, shrinking until his vision was his dominant sense once again. Rick's heart skipped a beat when he saw just _what_ he'd summoned, jaw dropping open at the utterly _unbelievable_ sight before him.

Firstly, there were _two_ of them. The duo of what could only be wolves on steroids watched him warily, their sharp blue eyes fixed on his frozen form. One was bigger than the other, it's head easily level with Rick's own. His stare was then drawn to the wolf's pelt when the muscle beneath rippled, it's shorty cropped fur was a beautiful sandy brown. The wolf was obviously built in a way that was meant to intimidate, crafted for brute force. 

The other had shaggy dark brown fur, it's floppy locks partially obscuring it's distrustfully squinted gaze from sight. If he had to guess, this one's head came up to Rick's shoulder. It's lithe form made it clear to Rick that this wolf's advantage was speed, but it's smaller frame didn't make it look any less threatening then the other.

A sword and shield.

"Oh, wow." The words came out on an exhale, breathy and awed. "You two are really somethin'." The sandy brown colored wolf made a huffy sound that was akin to a snort, as if amused by his wonder. Rick swallowed thickly, throat clicking. "I...uh. Feel free to take anything you like." He gestured toward the table behind him, drawing their combined gaze to the offerings. The bigger one changed first, body contorting unnaturally as his skeleton shrunk in on itself. It's fur fell away in clumps that burned into nothing before even hitting the ground, revealing flushed human skin. Rick winced at the grisly sounds the wolf's jaw made as it shortened and rounded into a human skull. The fur on the man's head stayed, and he was fairly fuzzy even in human form.

"Hello, I'm Rick. Rick Grimes, it's a pleasure to meet you." He held out his hand, curiously eyeing the second one. It was still a wolf, left shoulder blade all but glued to the other's side. The _very_ naked man's lip twitched up in what looked like disgust at the extended appendage, like it had somehow personally offended him. Rick balked a bit at the sight of the man's impressive canines, sharp and prominent even in human form. He let his hand slowly drop back to his side, anxiety a physical, squeezing grip around his thundering heart. He was positive they could hear it, each thump was deafening in his own ears. 

He hardly even registered the other's transformation, too caught up in his sudden shortness of breath. Fingertips cautiously skimmed over his chest, right above where his heart hammered away at his ribcage. The shock of the unexpected touch snapped him out of his panic; and just like that, he could breathe again. Rick's hand reached up at a snails pace, giving the man enough time to pull away, before he gently laced their fingers together. The effect was immediate, a sharp sting shot through his nerves, soothed by a rolling warmth. It was different from what he'd felt earlier, far more familiar. If he closed his eyes he could _sense_ the bond that tied them together, a sturdy and calm coil that sucked away all his fear and uncertainty.

An anchor.

"You alright now? Thought you was gon' pass out 'r some shit." Rick's gaze flicked up from aimlessly staring at their clasped hands, blinking at the rugged male that stood almost nose-to-nose with him. He hastily released his crushing grip on the other, gaze darting to the side where the second one stood. He looked uncomfortable in his own skin, probably more at home in his wolf form than human. His hair was still determined to be in his face, making Rick wonder if he could convince him to trim it a little. Probably not. "No, I'm fine. Sorry." Rick rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, noticing how both their eyes followed the action with a strange intensity.

"I'm Malahidael. What'cha got?" Rick's brows furrowed at the complicated name as - Maladale? Maladenial? - stepped past him to snatch up one of the expensive bottles of bourbon from the table, one of his wicked-looking claws stabbed into the cork to effortlessly pull it free. Rick startled when his hand was grabbed up, head whirling around so fast something in his neck popped. 

The shaggy one was glaring at him, mouth set in a thin, tight line of discomfort. It was glaringly obvious that he wasn't very good with physical contact, if the borderline painful hold the man had on his hand was any indication. Another line entwined itself around the bond already in place, strengthening it to the point where Rick wasn't sure if he could sever it even if he'd _wanted_ to.

This man's bond was much the same to the other's, infusing him with a type of trust and loyalty one usually reserved for family. It felt like he _knew_ this man, had known him from the day he'd been _conceived_. These two had been waiting for his call, been drawn to _his_ voice alone. Rick realized with a startled twitch of his shoulders that the man had lifted his chin, looking him dead in the eye with an assessing stare. The braided tethers tightened, binding the three of them together so completely that Rick couldn't tell where they began and he ended. Suddenly, it became absurdly obvious that these two wolves were _brothers_.

"Dahavauron." The man grunted, voice rough and dry from disuse. Dahav- fuck it, there's no way he's pronouncing _that_ \- made a hasty retreat over to the offerings, leaving Rick to his internal cringing at the equally long and tricky introductions. "You two wouldn't happen to have nicknames you could go by instead, would you?" Rick's head throbbed in warning at his continued attempts to retain the names he'd been gifted, threatening a migraine. The sandy brown one paused, lip of the bottle pressed against his mouth and half-raised. The shaggy one froze, elbow deep in a large basket that Rick had filled with a variety of food. The two shared a wide-eyed look, visibly caught off-guard by the question. 

"Uh, yeah. Daryl and Merle 'll do jus' fine." The older one - Merle - was gazing at Rick with newfound interest, then they both went right back to their previous activities. Merle was already popping open another bottle, whiskey this time, chugging a quarter of the contents in one gulp. Rick throat ached at just the _thought_ of swallowing all that burning liquor down, but Merle drank the booze like it was _water_. Rick's eyes turned to Daryl, who appeared to have gotten a smidgen more comfortable in his presence. The stiff line of his shoulders had loosened, he was otherwise occupied with stuffing his face with some beef jerky that Rick had gotten from Hershel.

"I'll go fetch you some clothes, I bought different sizes so _something_ is bound to fit you two." Merle hummed his appreciation, bottle more or less glued to his lips. Rick could see Daryl nod in wordless agreement out of the corner of his eye, the man's mouth stuffed to the brim with green grapes and strawberries. Rick had to press his closed fist over his mouth in an attempt to repress his sudden urge to laugh at the comical sight they made, he was smiling so wide his face hurt. He coughed out a _'be right back'_ that sounded more like a chuckle before turning on his heel to take the stairs up to the kitchen two at a time.

He'd left the shopping bags in the living room, a choice that he was currently thanking himself for. He scooped up the shopping and hurried back the way he came, nearly tripping down the steps in his haste to get back to his Familiars. He wanted to get to know them, wanted to make sure that they were okay with helping him make his dream of getting on the Force a reality. Even if they were both Class Nine or higher, he was sure that the Board would make an exception seeing as he had _two_ Familiars. He himself was still adjusting to that particular fact, it was a one-in-a-million chance after all.

"Whoa, easy there Rick. Don' need ya going and breakin' yer neck." Merle's hand caught his upper arm to steady him, bottle abandoned on the table. The liquor inside was still sloshing from being set aside, Merle's show of speed had the bubble of hope in his chest expanding. If the _shield_ was this quick on his feet, that could only mean that his _sword_ was _faster_. Rick side-eyed Daryl, who was already watching him. He hadn't moved an inch from the basket, but his legs were noticeably tensed up, like he'd been prepared to dart over had Rick actually went ass-over-teakettle.

Merle only released him when he was sure Rick was balanced on the flat concrete, taking the bags from his hands to eagerly wander back to the table. He dumped the array of fabric onto the already-packed surface, drawing an annoyed growl from Daryl when a shirt sleeve flopped onto his plate of summer sausage and cheese slices. They snarled at each other over some shirts, each brother tugging at one end while spitting abuse at the other. 

Eventually, both were dressed and back to poking through the offerings. The two of them having already picked through the swath of clothes to add to their respective piles, Rick mentally added shopping onto his agenda for tomorrow.

Now it was time to show them their rooms and the rest of the house, then ground rules.


	2. Chapter 2

"Feel free to use the TV, and the kitchen is always open to you, just clean up after yourselves. Don't be afraid to ask if you want anything." Rick scratched his jaw thoughtfully, taking note of the things each brother seemed more interested in sniffing at. As he'd predicted, Merle was all for fiddling with the TV, making himself at home on the couch. Daryl was on the move, too uneasy with his surroundings to sit, he was touching everything he came across. Grimes recognized it as a scenting thing, Daryl was claiming his territory. Surprisingly, Rick wasn't as bothered by it as he thought he'd be, it was _their_ home now.

"Got any beer? I don' prefer any specific brand." Rick's gaze flicked back to Merle, who was nuzzling his cheek against the back of the couch. He'd taken to lazily sprawling out on the furniture, hands sweeping over the cushions. Daryl had gone off into the hallway where the bathroom was, he could hear the faint rattle of a pill bottle. Probably the Advil, Rick didn't have any prescriptions. "Yeah, you want one?" Merle's right eye cracked open and he grunted an affirmative, watching Rick's departure from the living room.

He pulled the fridge open, snagging a beer from the six-pack he'd bought yesterday. Merle was obviously quite the drinker, but he didn't seem to be affected by the large quantities he guzzled down. Rick reasoned that as long as he was functional and didn't go into some sort of drunken rage, that his consumption of alcohol didn't need to be monitored. Rick didn't think that would turn into a problem down the road anyway, Merle knew how much liquor he could handle.

Rick jumped nearly two feet into the air when there was a knock at his back door, fingers convulsing. He watched in slow motion as the beer dropped out of his grasp, the impact on the tile sending shards of the bottle in every direction. Rick turned an irritated glare to the familiar face that smirked at him from the other side of the glass obstruction, Shane smugly waving at him like the asshole _hadn't_ just given him a heart attack.

Then, faster then he could blink, Shane was blocked from his sight by a seething Merle. His Familiar had an iron grip on his upper arm, ready to yank Rick behind the bulk of his body should Shane try anything Merle didn't like. Daryl was prowling back and forth in front of them both, a low, dangerous rumble vibrating in his chest. Rick was more then a bit shell-shocked by their protectiveness, wide blue eyes jumping between the two brothers.

"You alright? Cut anywhere? Don' smell anythin' other 'en beer." Merle was kneeling down in front of Rick before he could get a word of reassurance past his numb lips, carefully surveying Rick's feet for any damage without _actually_ touching them seeing how that could potentially compromise his balance. Confident that Rick was unharmed, Merle started to carelessly pick up the bigger pieces of glass to throw away. Merle wasn't even giving Shane the time of day anymore, trusting that Daryl would watch both their backs.

"It's just Shane. He's a friend." Grimes placed his hand on Merle's shoulder after a moment of hesitation, he wasn't sure how Merle would take the contact. To Rick's amazement, he leaned into the light touch. So he let his palm settle more firmly against the furnace that was his elder Familiar, blinking owlishly when Merle tilted his chin to rub his scratchy stubble against Rick's knuckles. It was affectionate and oddly reassuring, plus Grimes was sure it was transferring Merle's scent onto him.

He'd seen Shane do the same thing to Lori plenty of times.

"Why didn' he go ta the front then?" Daryl grumbled darkly, managing to back his way to Rick's side without once looking away from Shane's stunned face. Merle's instincts had drawn him to check on Rick, and Daryl's had pushed him to take care of the threat to his Summoner. Grimes was seriously impressed by the brother's attentiveness to their surroundings, the way they flawlessly worked as a unit.

"It's frowned upon when Familiars walk around in public without their Summoner." Daryl's hand shot up to grab a fistful of his shirt when Rick lifted a foot. Grimes shot a questioning look at him, jolting when Merle's fingers wrapped around his ankle to firmly set his heel back onto the tile. Rick leveled him with a look, guilt immediately making itself known when Merle hastily released his hold and shifted away. Daryl must've seen his brother's reaction because his grip went slack on Rick's shirt and he proceeded to shuffle to the side, putting a foot of open space between them.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me you were finally doing your Summoning!?" Shane waved his hands around wildly, seemingly unable to decide which brother to look at. His dark gaze flipped back and forth between the two silent Familiars, obviously impressed with what he saw. Rick's head tipped back with a drawn-out sigh, squinting at his ceiling as if the uneven bumps held all the answers. It didn't, of course. When he stepped forward this time, he wasn't stopped, which somehow made him feel even _more_ shitty. Rick carefully navigated to the door, keeping an eye out for any wayward pieces of glass.

As soon as he flipped the lock, Shane was yanking the door open and clamping his hands down onto Rick's shoulders. He was forced into a backward retreat as Shane pressed forward, bombarding him with questions. There was a strangled choke from behind him a second before his left foot stepped down on something with a jagged edge, he hissed and jerked the injured appendage off the offending object. Grimacing when he realized a fragment of the beer bottle had embedded itself into the sole of his foot, fat globs of crimson splattering onto the tile.

"Ow, shit. Shane, let go." Rick flailed when Shane yelped, his hands unceremoniously ripped away from their place. Grimes' head snapped up from the blood just in time to witness Daryl violently wrestle Shane toward the back door, all but shoving him out of the house. Daryl's expression was downright _murderous_ when slammed and locked the sliding door, lips bared in a snarl at the other Familiar's back. Shane scrambled to his feet, whirling around to fix Daryl with a blazing glare.

"Shane, just calm down. I'm bleeding and they're worried, don't take it personally. I summoned them just an hour ago, they haven't even been _registered_ yet." Rick explained, making sure to raise his voice so Shane could hear him from the other side of the door. The fight visibly left his friend, Shane's posture straightening out of his defensive crouch. He nodded in understanding, scratching at his chin with blunt fingernails. Shane's gaze flicked down to Rick's foot and he grimaced, clearly apologetic.

"Sorry man, I forget how breakable you humans are. You need help with that?" Daryl bristled at the offer, snapping his teeth at Shane in a distinct warning. Rick yelped when Merle pinched the glass and gave it a cautious tug, the shard sliding loose with a slippery sound. Crimson was flowing from the wound with renewed vigor, splashing onto the floor. There was sure to be a stain seeing as he'd have to wait to clean up the mess, just another thing to add to his growing list of worries.

"Daryl." Merle grunted, the two brothers sharing a communicative look before Daryl backed away from the door. He relocated to the sink, squatting down in front of it to rummage in the cabinets underneath. Rick jumped, attention pulled away from Daryl's digging, when Merle pressed a clean dishrag against the gash. A clatter brought Rick's gaze back to the younger sibling, who's crossed arms were full of cleaning supplies. Daryl pushed to his feet, carefully unwinding one of his arms from the jumble of collected items to twist the knob closest to him.

Water jetted into the sink, Daryl awkwardly adjusting the temperature one-handed until he was satisfied. The water was steaming when he positioned a medium-sized bowl underneath the spout, waiting patiently until it was half-way full before switching off the water and pulling the bowl out. He then proceeded to fill the remaining space in the bowl with bleach and some other cleaning product, snatching a white dishrag from the drawer Merle had left open when he'd grabbed his own.

Rick balked when Daryl knelt on the floor next to the smaller blood puddle, placing the bowl next to him with a precarious slosh. He dipped the cloth into the mixture and wrung it out before diligently starting on the mess, Rick watching him work in a disbelieving daze. When Daryl was finished with that puddle, he dumped the pink-colored water down the drain and repeated the process of filling up the bowl. He also rinsed the dishrag a few times, wringing it out until the expunged water ran clear. The cloth remained stained though, Rick would throw it out when Daryl finished.

"This'll sting." Merle murmured, Rick's eyes shooting down to the man. Merle was crouched in front of his hanging legs, one of his calloused hands firmly wrapped around Rick's ankle. There was an open first-aid kit beside Merle's bare foot, making Rick wonder when he'd gotten up to go fetch it from the bathroom. Grimes nearly bit his tongue when Merle dabbed a cotton-ball soaked in what smelt like alcohol onto the cut, his toes curled and he just barely managed to repress the urge to jerk away. Merle's grip on his ankle tightened for a fraction of a second before relaxing, Rick almost thought it was an involuntary action until Merle _deliberately_ did it again.

That's when Rick realized he'd shut his eyes, his whole body wound as tight as a bowstring. Grimes relaxed his jaw, teeth aching from the pressure of gritting them for such a long period of time. He sucked in a deep breath and blinked his twin pools of blue open, forcibly relaxing the death-grip he had on the edge of the counter. Merle was watching him, a furrow between his brows. Rick's lips quirked into a tired but reassuring smile, gaze sliding down to take in the flawless bandages that mummified the majority of his foot. Obviously, Merle had some experience in patching people up.

"Did I not need stitches? The glass seemed to have been in there pretty deep." Grimes hummed, curiously wiggling his exposed toes and wincing at the uncomfortable pull of split skin. "Nah, it'll be good and healed by mornin' 's long as ya quit messin' with it." Merle shrugged, hand snapping out to take Rick's big toe hostage. Once he was certain that Rick was going to heed his words, Merle released his toe, giving his knee a friendly pat before moving away to re-pack the kit.

Daryl had already finished his task of cleaning up both crimson puddles and was now gathering up the bloodied medical supplies, tossing the used cotton-balls and gauze into the nearby trashcan. Shane was still by the door, practically pressed against it. Rick raised a brow at the shit-eating grin he found taking up the lower half of his friend's face, Shane only winked before heading off toward the gate to outright _leave_ Rick's yard _._ Grimes shook his head at Shane's strange antics, gingerly sliding off the counter. He put the majority of his weight on his good leg, hands braced on the counter for balance.

"Now is a good time as any to show you two the sleeping arrangements." Rick rubbed a hand over his face, wondering if he could ask for one of them to just put him on the sofa before they ran off the explore. "My room is the door on the left at the end of the hall, the bathroom is right across from mine. The other two rooms are free, you guys can hash out who goes where. The first door on the right is the guest bedroom, I didn't know I would be having two Familiars so I only prepared one room-" Rick's rambling was cut off with a startled squawk when he was unceremoniously swept off his feet, held bridal style by a smug Merle.

"You lookin' tired Rick," Merle leaned in, Their faces so close that the tips of their noses brushed. "Lemme take ya ta bed." Rick's mouth went dry as his face heated up, taken off guard by the liquid sex dripping off Merle's tongue. The elder brother growled when Daryl jabbed him in the ribs, expression flat and unimpressed. "Leave 'im alone ya dirty old fuck, or imma take him from ya." Merle's growling spiked into something guttural and possessive, his grip on Rick tightening as if he believed Daryl would snatch him away right then and there. His next words made Rick choke on his own spit, and even though Merle's tone was playful, his expression was uncharacteristically serious.

"Don't worry Darlina, old Merle can share."


	3. Chapter 3

Thankfully, the remainder of the day passed without further interruptions or incidents. Unless one wanted to count the numerous text messages from Shane, Rick got fed up at around text numero seventeen and switched his phone to silent so that he could get some damn rest. Merle exhibited a type of cautiousness that Rick hadn't first thought him capable of when Grimes verbally navigated them both to his room, waiting patiently for Daryl to open the door and sweep the area inside for possible hostiles. It was ridiculous to think someone was hunkered down in his closet waiting to kill him, but checking it out anyway calmed the brothers.

"Alright, time fer some rest. Don't be gettin' up outta this bed 'til tomorrow, ya hear?" Rick nodded, releasing his looped arms from around Merle's neck when he was carefully placed down onto his mattress. Merle hovered over him for a long second, a strange emotion that Rick couldn't identify flicking across his features. It looked almost like...longing? Which was perplexing because he'd only known the shapeshifter for a handful of hours, perhaps the bond had something to do with it? Grimes' face must've given away his confusion, because Merle's expression relaxed into his usual cheeky grin.

Daryl was hovering at the end of Rick's bed, hurrying forward when Merle straightened and stepped away. The younger brother fussed with the blankets until Rick was comfortably tucked in, the man even going as far as fluffing his pillows. Daryl went about the entire ordeal with his head lowered in a submissive way, blatantly avoiding eye-contact. Rick would've thought Daryl was doing this because he felt he had to if not for the way the tension drained from his taut frame, so Grimes left him to his own devices. Clearly, taking care of someone else helped put Daryl in a calmed state of mind.

"G'night Rick." Daryl's voice was barely a whisper, low and throaty in a way that was pure _ sin _ . Rick's throat clicked when he swallowed, mouth dry. He wasn't sure how he managed his response, but he croaked out a  _ 'sleep well' _ that the brothers took as a dismissal. Merle playfully saluted him before departing, Daryl right on his heels. The door quietly clicked shut, leaving Rick alone with his thoughts for the first time since the Summoning. His mind turned to pondering about their origins, the two had obviously been summoned before. But, by the way they'd reacted to his frustration earlier, it hadn't been an equal partnership.

His gut flipped just  _ thinking _ about what abuse they might've suffered at the hands of someone they were supposed to trust, no wonder the brothers were so apprehensive when they'd first met. Rick shifted, disrupting the blankets when he rolled onto his side. He blinked a few times to let his eyes adjust to the dark, blankly staring at the white-painted sliding doors that concealed his closet. The two brothers didn't  _ appear _ wary of him, but there was always the chance that they were just exceptional at hiding their fear. Rick scrubbed a hand over his face, exhaling heavily. His lids slipped shut and he just focused on counting each breath, letting his mind empty.

* * *

The next morning, Rick blinked the sleep from his eyes as he stretched. Pushing his covers back, Grimes settled his feet onto the carpeted floor. He groggily sat in the still darkness for a quiet moment before his eyes abruptly widened, abruptly realizing that he could move without pain. Looking down at the appendage in question, he wiggled the toes of his previously injured foot, watching as his limb shifted beneath the clean bandages. Curious, Rick reached for the wrapped limb and unwrapped his foot. He carelessly tossed the gauze to the floor - not unlike a child opening a Christmas present - in his haste to reveal the wound.

There, on his heel where the deep cut was supposed to be, was instead a faint pink line. He poked at it in utter disbelief and rolled his foot around the firm mattress, eyeing the appendage like it would suddenly fall off. He'd heard stories about humans with incredibly fast healing, but he didn't think they'd been true. It was a bit far-fetched. Supposedly, if the Familiar had physical contact with their injured Summoner then, depending on the Familiar's class, the human healed faster than what should've been possible. He never thought he'd witness the phenomenon in person.

He was interrupted from his amazement by the quiet hum of the television turning on downstairs. He got up and shuffled out of his room and into the hallway. Taking the steps two at a time, Rick arrived into the living room and found Merle on the couch flicking through channels while nursing a bottle of beer. He was positive that it was from the six-pack that Rick had bought the day before and had forgotten in the back of his fridge. He'd gone to a liquor store and asked the cashier what they'd recommend for offerings. Of course, the given selection had been expensive, so he'd bought several bottles of top-shelf whisky, rum and bourbon before using the pocket change to get something cheap for himself. He didn't think that either of them would enjoy something so obviously tasteless, but he wasn't going to tell the older man no.

Rick noticed the lack of Daryl in the room and assumed that he was the one digging around in the kitchen. Merle eyed him as he walked by and into the other room, out of view. There, Daryl was at the stove, brows pulled down in concentration as he aggressively stirred something in one of the bigger pots. Rick frowned when he saw what the wolf had chosen for breakfast. It was a simple, bland pot of oatmeal. Rick glanced around, taking note of the more filling food he'd gotten, noticing that it hadn’t been touched.

Seeing as Daryl had yet to notice Rick’s entry, he reached out to tap the younger Familiar’s shoulder in an attempt to keep from startling the other. The moment the pad of his finger brushed against Daryl, the man growled and Rick’s wrist was seized in a crushing grip. Before Grimes could even  _ think _ about apologizing, he was being violently thrown into the counter behind him. He caught himself, managing to stay on his feet, but the dishes behind him hadn't been so lucky. They fell to the linoleum with a loud crash, spreading glass shards about the kitchen. 

Rick looked up from the glittering pieces on the floor to a wide-eyed Daryl, who was frozen on the other side of the room, staring at him in an uncomfortable mix of terror and guilt. A tense heartbeat later, Merle barreled into the room. His sharp eyes taking in the mess before stepping protectively in front of Daryl's cowering form, features twisting into an intimidating snarl. "What'd he do, Daryl?" Merle barked, gaze flickering between the two before directly addressing Grimes. "What'd ya do!" Rick’s hands flew up in a placating gesture, wincing when the movement caused his lower back to smart.

“I startled him, it was my fault.” Merle’s sneer faltered at Grimes' admission, the elder Familiar blinking at him owlishly. Daryl’s disbelieving blue eyes jumped from the floor to Rick, roving over Grimes’ face as if he was searching for something. Rick slowly lowered his arms when it became apparent that neither of them were going to try taking a chunk out of him. “I’m sorry for touching you so suddenly.” Rick sheepishly ran a hand through his hair, mentally vowing to be more aware of his Familiar’s boundaries in the future.

“Nah, it’s fine. Jus’ wasn’t expectin’ it.” Daryl murmured, sharing an unreadable look with Merle before their collective stares were fastened on Rick once again. “You alright? You ain’t hurt nowhere?” The younger Familiar questioned, his arctic gaze scrutinizing Grimes from head to toe. Rick nodded to assure them that he was perfectly fine, not wanting them to worry about what was -most likely- just a bruise. “We’ll handle the mess, don’t need a repeat of yesterday’s incident.” Merle huffed, carefully navigating around the shards in order to clamp his hands onto Rick’s shoulders and guide him out of the kitchen.

“Go on now, go do what ya normally do in the mornin’.” The elder Familiar urged before heading over to Daryl, who was already kneeling to collect the larger pieces of broken ceramic. Rick lingered, watching the two as they diligently tidied up the kitchen, relieved that he’d been able to successfully deescalate the situation. Rick flushed when Daryl unexpectedly raised his head, catching Rick staring at the two of them before nudging Merle to get the elders attention. Merle glanced at Daryl, who nodded toward Rick. 

The elder Familiar heeded his brother’s wordless demand and stood up with a low grunt. “Alright Rick, time for you to find somethin’ else to do other than oglin’ us. Shoo.” As he spoke, Merle gently nudged Rick away from the kitchen doorway and to the bottom of the stairway leading to the second floor. Rick raised a brow at the elder Familiar, but took the hint and made his way up the stairs. He decided that a nice, relaxing soak was in order before officially starting his first day with his Familiars.

Rick pushed into the bathroom and flipped the lightswitch, bathing the room in a soft golden light. He gave his back a cursory glance when he stripped out of his shirt, grimacing at the neat line of vivid purples and deep blues that spanned the entire width of his lower back. He’d been right to anticipate bruising, Daryl hadn’t held back in his panic to distance himself from the perceived threat. Rick should have been more careful, especially since he already suspected that they’d been subjected to the abuse of a Summoner in the past.

Rick swallowed down the bile that threatened to crawl up his throat at the thought of someone looking upon the two brothers and seeing animals that needed to be tamed. Humans were cruel, and their hate knew no bounds. Most of the time, Rick was ashamed to be the same species as them. He couldn’t imagine laying a hand on either man, the thought of doing so made his stomach churn. They were his family now, it was a  _ privilege _ to look after them. He was raised with the firm belief that a Summoner was to treat their Familiar as their equal, no matter what their ranking may be.

Rick plugged the tub and cranked on the hot water, sprinkling some Epsom salt into the steadily filling basin along with a few drops of tea tree oil. When it was sufficiently full, Rick stemmed the faucet and finished undressing before stepping in and sinking down into the steaming water. His lips pulled up into a content smile when the heat soothed his tender back, the sharp throbbing fading away. He would have to remember to take pain meds throughout the day to stave off the fierce ache that persisted in his lower spine.

He soaked comfortably for about twenty minutes, dozing off and on as he slipped further down into the warm bath. He was startled back into wakefulness by the clatter of dropped pans and loud cursing. As the commotion died off, Rick shook his head with an affectionate grin and pulled the plug for the bath, the tub gurgling as it slowly drained the murky water. Grabbing one of his softer towels, he briskly wiped himself dry before wrapping it around his waist and relocating to his bedroom.

Softly shutting the door behind him for some privacy, Rick dropped the towel and moved about the room in order to collect a complete outfit. He went through various articles of clothing, each one getting tossed onto the bed when he ultimately decided against it. The whole process reminded him of when he was going out on his first date with Lori as a teenager, he had been determined to make a good first impression. Rick’s lips quirked at the nostalgic memory, and he contemplated where the odd comparison had come from. Feeling a bit embarrassed, he just decided to go for casual and pulled on a pair of dark navy jeans with a freshly washed burgundy T-shirt before heading downstairs for breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...is anyone still interested in this fic? I know it's been a good few months since I've updated this particular fic. I sorta fell out of the fandom, but I recently watched season ten and I just couldn't help but miss Rick so much because I feel like he would have all that shit solved in half the time. Not to mention that I recently got into the Crackship that is Daryl Dixon/Dean Winchester. I'm planning on writing a fic featuring this pairing and of course Dean would be more toward the season one and two version of him with a sprinkle of insanity. Dean would be MY version of him, just like every other story I write, they are never fully in character. Oh man, I got way off topic! I just want to say sorry for what will probably be another few-days-wait for chapter 4 and possibly chapter 5, depends on how motivated I am.
> 
> Stay weird my lovelies!


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